


A Place for Us

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Banter, Blow Jobs, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Facials, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Pining, Romance, Shower Sex, angry making out sessions, dangerous handling of hellfire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: Aziraphale has built a nest to declare himself to Crowley. Too bad everything is about to go wrong.🔥Of all of God’s creations he shouldn’t have loved, Crowley was surely the most forbidden one. Aziraphale was supposed to be benevolent but detached, an emissary of the Almighty, and not a person with his own agenda, his own needs, his own undeniable hunger.But he couldn’t help himself.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 443





	A Place for Us

Aziraphale wipes the foggy bathroom mirror with a towel and examines carefully his reflection.

Nothing to see there except his heaven-issued corporation. But a corporation he’s worn for thousands of years, loved and flawed, part of him as much as his soul by now. These are his own hands that clutch at the towel – his old, delicate hands, his own short, manicured nails, and his own purple-blue veins at the wrist. This is his own naked chest, pale and covered in white-gold hair. These are his own hips, pudgy and soft and pink where he presses in with a finger.

Would Crowley love this body?

At times, it seems like such a preposterous question, and then, at other times, Aziraphale finds himself not quite so sure.

Angels – they aren’t supposed to choose a companion. They aren’t supposed to nest. The instinct is there, of course, it’s always been there, it’s like this for every angel of the Lord. Which makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why would God give them this desire and then forbid them from pairing up, from finding a mate? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.

The most logical explanation Aziraphale has ever heard is that it’s a temptation, a test so see whether the angels can control their urges and reserve all their love for God alone.

Now that he’s free to think such thoughts, well – Aziraphale would like to say that he thinks that’s a load of bollocks, with all due respect. Humans are the ones with free will, not angels. Angels aren’t supposed to be tempted. They’re not supposed to _want_. They’re not supposed to wonder whether they’re loved back, and how.

But Aziraphale has never been a perfect angel. From the moment he’s been put on this Earth, his love has got away from him. It ran all over the place. Oh – how he loved the trees and the warmth of the sun, the sweetness of the fruits and the smell of the wet flowers and dirt after the rain. And the humans – he loved them too, imperfect and infuriating as they’ve always been. Humans, so full of hope as long as they are alive, constantly busy trying to make the best of whatever circumstances they’re in.

Of all of God’s creations he shouldn’t have loved, Crowley was surely the most forbidden one. Aziraphale was supposed to be benevolent but detached, an emissary of the Almighty, and not a person with his own agenda, his own needs, his own undeniable hunger. But he couldn’t help himself.

Crowley grinned at him, that day on the wall, and little by little he wormed his way - or, maybe, it would be more appropriate to say he _snaked_ his way – to his heart. Not because he’s beautiful – though, of course, he is, _oh_ if he is – and not because he’s charming, even though Aziraphale’s insides do funny things whenever he smiles.

It was his kindness. It was how he comforted Aziraphale, the day they met, and how he helped him out time after time, even though they were enemies, even though they weren’t supposed to fraternise. It was in the way he could see all the horrors of the world and all the tortures humans could come up with, and still protect them, still fight to defend this world. It was the tender way he held children’s tiny hands through the ages.

Aziraphale loves him desperately.

Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’s a free angel now. He can do what he likes. There was no way to hold himself back from the urge to nest, so he simply chose to let himself do it. He has no doubts at all who he’s been nesting for, either. He just hopes he’s right about it, that his feelings are reciprocated and he hasn’t been a deluded fool all along.

Sex doesn’t have to be part of it – although it’s always looked so nice, hasn’t it? The—the lovemaking, and the intimacy, and lying in each other’s arms, trusting each other completely. He’s been longing for it for a terribly long time.

Crowley has never shown he’s interested in it. He dresses in a way that might suggest he wants humans to look at him and think about sex, but that doesn’t mean anything. It might be part of his image – big wicked demon, inspires sins in the minds of those that gaze upon him. It might even be a clever way to keep Hell off his back, making them think he’s great at his job.

It sure inspires sin in Aziraphale, at any rate. So he’s doing something right.

But that’s just a part of it, and if Crowley isn’t interested, it doesn’t change a thing – Aziraphale is sure the demon is the companion he wants. Him and nobody else.

But if Crowley _were_ interested… would he like this body? Aziraphale caresses his own arm, still damp from the bath. He loves this corporation. It’s been with him for so long. It’s comfortable and soft. It brought him all over the world, let him taste and see so many wonderful things. Would Crowley agree? Would Crowley love it just as much?

He dresses slowly, then goes upstairs. He opens a door that wasn’t there a week ago and checks on his nest one last time.

This is no normal room – of course. It’s a large circle with columns all around. Above, there is no ceiling, but a wonderful starry sky, from which Crowley could admire every constellation travelling fast above his head. The floor is covered in white feathers. Every single feather has been imbued with Aziraphale’s angelic energy, a part of him as much as his hair and the wings on his back are.

This is the place. This is where he imagines the two of them will sit and declare their love to each other – assuming Aziraphale’s feelings are returned. This is the pocket of the universe made exclusively for the two of them, where Crowley will be able to feel Aziraphale all around him, thanks to the feathers covering the floor. This is where they’ll lie down, and maybe kiss, and perhaps even—

Oh. He really hopes Crowley loves him back.

🔥

Crowley freezes for a long moment when Aziraphale asks him if he’d follow him upstairs. He’s suddenly very, very still, though Aziraphale can tell his eyes are moving behind his dark glasses, looking up at the ceiling – or, rather, towards the upper floor, where Crowley must know he has a bedroom – and back down at the raspberry cheesecake they’d been sharing, then up again.

Aziraphale feels his face burn hot. He’s not suggesting… well, yes, he is, but not—he’s not asking Crowley into his bed. Not yet, at least. Maybe, if the demon is interested, once Aziraphale has shown him his nest, if he accepts his gift and returns his feelings… then, yes. Maybe, in a sense, Aziraphale is indeed making a very indecent proposal right now.

Either way, Crowley seems to have guessed something, because the tips of his ears are very, very red.

“Right,” he says, and stands up straight, a stillness and a cautiousness to his movements that isn’t usually there. Is he… could he be nervous too, just like Aziraphale is? Crowley takes a deep breath and nods, a jerky movement of his sharp chin. “Lead the way.”

Aziraphale does, his heart rabbiting in his chest. This is it, this is the moment it all comes to an end. One way or another, there will be relief for his nerves after this. Even if he were rejected – oh, but would he? He can’t be so terribly wrong about Crowley’s feelings, can he?

They pass the door to his bedroom, and he notices Crowley pausing for a moment in front of it, then hurrying to catch up with him. It makes Aziraphale smile. Silly demon, did he really think Aziraphale would just lead him into his bedroom? As if their feelings didn’t run so much deeper than that. As if Aziraphale would be so arrogant as to bring him upstairs and expect to be bedded; no preamble, no discussion of their feelings. And Crowley – he would have agreed to it? Just like that? The prospect makes Aziraphale’s heart twist in his chest. Crowley deserves so much more respect than that, so much more care.

It’s with shaking hands that he opens the door of their – of _his_ nest. The nest he’s built for Crowley, if he will have it.

“This is, I… I have absolutely no expectations, but I thought… I couldn’t help myself, really. I had to make it, and I really do hope you’ll like it, but y-you can just be honest, please don’t spare my feelings.” He stares at the tip of his shoes while he holds the door open and the demon walks past him and into the room without saying a word. “We’ve known each other too long for that; you can be absolutely honest and tell me if it’s not to your liking. I… Crowley?”

He looks up and sees the demon making his way into the room. The feathers part around his feet, creating a long empty space around him, until he stops right in the centre. The feathers form a circle around him, not one of them touching him – as if repulsed by his demonic nature.

Aziraphale stops breathing. He had not expected this. Demon, angel – he’s genuinely come to believe it doesn’t make much of a difference anymore. But maybe it does. Maybe this cannot work, after all.

“Crowley,” he says quietly, slowing walking towards his friend. “Please… say something.”

Crowley crouches, his fingers reaching out to touch a feather that floats away from him before he can reach it. Aziraphale can only see the rigid line of Crowley’s shoulders. It shakes a little, as if… as if he were crying, or trying very hard not to.

“Cro—”

“Can you leave?”

Aziraphale receives the question like a gunshot to the chest. He takes a step back, stunned. Very quickly, he decides to comply. If Crowley needs space, or time, or anything – he’ll give it to him. He never meant to build a room to hurt him and humiliate him, but if that’s what he did… he’ll leave. He’ll wait for Crowley to come out on his own.

In the meantime, he’ll think long and hard about how to best apologise for the pain he’s caused. He had no idea the feathers would be a bad idea, but that’s no excuse.

“Of course, yes. I’ll be… I’ll be right outside.”

Crowley doesn’t reply, doesn’t even move at all.

Aziraphale runs out of the room and shuts the door behind him.

🔥

He waits.

Aziraphale waits 40 nights and 40 days, and appreciates the irony not one bit.

At first, he waits by the door. Then he waits in his bedroom, on the other side of the hallway, sitting on his bed, with a few books for company. Then, when he loses hope of Crowley resurfacing anytime soon, he adventures downstairs, opens the bookshop even. Might as well, since there is no sign Crowley wants to talk.

Finally he snaps when, one morning, he looks outside and sees a kid trying to rip the hood ornament off the Bentley. He’s been keeping an eye on it, shrouding it from police officers and traffic wardens, and watching a human trying to damage it so maliciously makes him see red.

He slams open the door of the bookshop and runs outside. “Stop what you’re doing immediately!”

The kid, a teenager of fourteen or fifteen, freezes for a long moment, turns around to look at him over his shoulder, and then runs away as fast as he can. Aziraphale catches his breath, hoping he wasn’t too hard on the kid – that he didn’t let too much of his angelic rage leak into the air. He just lost it completely for a moment, and – oh dear, the child looked very scared indeed.

He comes back inside and locks the door behind him. He goes up the stairs and knocks on the door of the room that was supposed to contain their nest. He cannot take it anymore. He’s let it go on far too long, just because he was stewing in his sense of guilt. He’s left Crowley alone for too long. He should have stayed. He should have suffered being the bad guy for once, the one who made a terrible mistake, but he shouldn’t have left Crowley all by himself.

When there is no reply, Aziraphale pushes the door open, and sees nothing has changed in more than a month. There is still a long empty path that leads to the centre of the room, feathers on either side and around Crowley in a circle, none of them touching him.

He’s on his knees, his back turned to Aziraphale.

“Crowley?”

No reply. Aziraphale walks up to him, crouches right behind him. He can now see that Crowley is looking straight ahead, expressionless, unblinking.

“Crowley? Can you do something for me?”

Crowley nods without turning around.

“As a demon, you can make Hellfire at any moment, is that correct?” Aziraphale swallows and takes a deep breath. “Would you show me?”

Crowley does. He lifts a hand and turns its palm up, then produces a perfect sphere of fire, floating just a few inches above his skin.

Aziraphale looks up at the Heavens, wonders if this is his last moment on Earth, and shoves Crowley forward as hard as he can.

The Hellfire slips off the demon’s hand as he slams both palms into the floor to avoid falling onto his face. It rolls onto the feathers and takes immediately. It all happens very quickly. The white expanse around them suddenly turns into flames, then into ashes as the demonic fire pulverises every single one of Aziraphale’s feathers.

He’s surprised that it doesn’t hurt.

Somehow, he makes it out unscathed, none of the feathers were too close to him, and the fire doesn’t reach him. Finally, Crowley gasps and turns around to look at him in the eye, with the face of someone who just woke up from a nightmare.

“Angel—what did you do?!” He looks down at his hands in horror. “What… what did you make me do?!”

“I’m so sorry, Crowley, I know it was quite drastic. I needed to get rid of all of them immediately. They were clearly hurting you and you weren’t responding—”

“ _Aziraphale_.” Crowley opens and closes his mouth several times. “You could have died.”

“There was a risk, yes. But I wasn’t sure how the feathers were influencing you, and since it was all my fault, it simply seemed fair to—”

He’s interrupted by Crowley knocking him down onto his arse, kneeling between his legs, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, almost tearing it off his arms. “You bloody idiot! You can’t play with your life like that!”

“Look, Crowley, I know this is my fault, but—”

“Are you insane? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Crowley keeps pulling and shaking him by his jacket, and Aziraphale does not appreciate that at all, his jacket is innocent. “There are so many things you could have tried instead of trying to set yourself on fire!”

“Crowley, don’t be daft. If you were stuck in a trance so deep you did not realise time was passing, and you weren’t even protecting your car, what other choice did I have except—”

“Then you should have left me here! Fucking leave me here instead of risking your own life!” Aziraphale hears the jacket ripping under his armpit and loses the last of his patience.

“Do you think this was easy for me? I—I _fucked_ up, alright? I did. And I apologise, but I would not leave you here staring at a wall!”

“You could have died!” Crowley says again, his voice breaking on the last word. “You could have died, Aziraphale. What would I do if you… you can’t just—what would I do? Where would I go?”

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale reaches out to lay a hand on Crowley’s cheek. Gently, he takes the glasses of the demon’s face and sees his eyes are wet. “Well, I didn’t stop to think about that. I was just trying—”

“Never,” Crowley cuts him off once again, his nose an inch from Aziraphale’s now. “ _Never_ do that again. Ever. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I’d killed you, you understand? I couldn’t.”

“I wanted to rescue you, Crowley. I didn’t want to cause any more pain.” Aziraphale grabs him at the wrists, tries to make him let go of the jacket. “You must understand that.”

“I bloody don’t.” Instead of releasing him, Crowley gets closer, forehead against Aziraphale’s. “I don’t and I won’t. Christ, Aziraphale, for someone so smart that was a fucking stupid thing to do.”

“I—” Suddenly, with Crowley so close, Aziraphale loses all his words. The demon’s lips are almost on his already, and this argument isn’t leading them anywhere, anyway. Aziraphale knows he did the right thing. He knows it, and Crowley won’t change his mind.

Crowley’s panting, from the fright or the anger Aziraphale doesn’t know, but his warm breath is tickling his lips in the most delicious of ways. He’s still fuming, but the relief of Crowley finally arguing with him instead of being unresponsive is so great Aziraphale forgets himself for a moment and shifts forward, pressing his mouth to the demon’s and closing his eyes.

Distantly, he hears Crowley make a protesting noise before he begins to reciprocate, his hands finally leaving Aziraphale’s jacket alone to tangle in his hair, to pull him impossibly closer. Aziraphale wraps his arms around him to do the same.

Finally. It feels like he’s been underwater, holding his breath for longer than he can remember, and now he can breathe at last. He needs to be closer, closer, _closer_ , as close as they can possibly get. _Finally_.

He’s imagined many times how it’d feel to kiss Crowley. He didn’t know it’d be so warm. He didn’t know the demon would part his lips and his forked tongue would be soft and wet in a way that sends delightful sparks of pleasure down his spine. He didn’t know the warmth would spread down to his neck, to his chest, to his arms and hands, that it would make his heart beat faster in his chest and butterflies riot in his stomach. He didn’t know it would pool between his legs, making his body come alive under Crowley’s touch in a way it’s never done before.

He’s surprised when the back of his head – cushioned by Crowley’s fingers – bumps against the floor. He didn’t realise he was slowly slipping down. Crowley – wonderful, gorgeous, _warm_ Crowley – is on top of him, planted between his thighs, clinging to him as if he could escape any second. Aziraphale kisses him back furiously, licks into his mouth, and he’s both still angry with him and deliriously elated to have him back. Most of all, he’s desperately hungry for him.

Crowley breaks the kiss to clamp his lips on Aziraphale’s neck – Aziraphale never knew he was so sensitive there, and hears himself making an embarrassingly obscene moan. Crowley becomes very still for a moment, then does it again, making him moan once more.

“Bloody idiot,” Crowley is snarling against his skin, his shaky fingers on the bowtie, frantically trying to get it off. “Throwing your life away like that.”

Aziraphale lets his hand skim down Crowley’s body, underneath his jacket, presses his thumbs into the hardened peaks of his nipples through the fabric of the charcoal grey shirt. “I’d do it again.”

Crowley huffs out a laughter, which cracks when Aziraphale’s hands sneak underneath his shirt to grasp at his bare hips. “Stubborn fool.”

“So are you.”

Aziraphale had imagined it all differently. He’d imagined their first kiss slow and tentative, romantic and careful. He had no idea he’d burn his nest down, and then Crowley would press him to the floor of an empty room, the starry sky shining above them. But he also finds that he doesn’t care. Now that they’ve begun it’s impossible to stop this avalanche of kisses, caresses and irreverent touches. Oh, he wants to touch Crowley everywhere, get to know every nook and cranny of his body with his fingertips, with his lips, with his tongue.

Crowley seems to agree, because he grinds down against him, already rock-hard between his legs, and Aziraphale can’t help more noises that sound like nothing he’s ever made before.

Then, suddenly, Crowley is shifting away, coming down to lie on his back next to Aziraphale on the floor.

“Are you—”

“This can’t be how it happens,” Crowley says, reaching out to take his hand. “Fuck, Aziraphale, I’m not—you deserve so much more than getting palmed against the floor.”

Aziraphale thinks about it for a moment. “That was perfectly fine with me, actually.”

Crowley barks out a laugh, and there is so much fondness in his gaze when he turns to look back at Aziraphale. “Right, of course. You’d say anything just to spite me.”

Aziraphale can’t hold back anymore. The words bubble to his lips and he’s helpless to stop them. He’s dreadfully in love with Crowley, and he can’t pretend otherwise any longer, not for a moment. “I built a nest for you.”

Crowley’s face does something complicated before he swallows and settles on serious. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I couldn’t.”

“I did it wrong. I would like the opportunity to do it right.” He squeezes Crowley’s hand, hopeful. “What did it feel like?”

Crowley looks up at the stars. “I was… stuck, I guess. It felt like an endless fall. Like something was being taken away from me, but it was still within my reach to get it back. But it wasn’t, I couldn’t… I couldn’t reach it. No matter how hard I tried.” Crowley huffs. “This sounds so stupid.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Aziraphale, hesitantly, brings their joined hands to his lips, kisses the demon’s knuckles. Oh, to be allowed such an easy intimacy, after so much time… it’s a miracle, isn’t it? “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got it so terribly wrong. Would you let me try again?”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley turns to lie on his side, looking down on him. “You don’t have to do it a third time.”

“A third—what do you mean?”

“The bookshop, angel,” Crowley says softly. “It’s perfect already. Well, could do with a new TV and about ninety-five percent less dust, but—I was the one who tempted the humans into eating the fruits of the tree of knowledge. Have you taken a look around? You have amassed so much knowledge in here. And you’ve made this place incredibly comfortable. _Sinfully_ comfortable, even. I don’t know how Heaven never reprimanded you for it.”

“They never stayed long enough to notice, I suspect.”

“Thank whoever for that. My point is – you’ve already made a place for us. You don’t need to do anything else. Well, add a plant or two – or twenty, and there is that issue with the dust—”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale turns on his side too, his face breaking out into a smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were moving yourself in with me.”

Crowley averts his gaze and huffs. “Taking my rightful place, is all.”

“Well then. I’m not one to interfere with what is right. And, Crowley?” Aziraphale scoots closer, pressing himself against the demon. He’s surprised to find himself so shameless, but maybe this is only natural now that they’re free. Maybe he just can’t stop himself, now that he can finally have what he’s always wanted. “I’m also not one to leave anything unfinished.”

“Neither am I,” Crowley replies, trying for brazen and ending up somewhere between eager and embarrassed, despite his valiant attempt at nonchalance.

His sweet, sweet demon. Sweet and _nice_ and finally _his_.

🔥

The hot water sprays right in his face, and he doesn’t even care. Kneeling by Crowley’s feet in the most blasphemous way, Aziraphale lets the shower wash his naked body as he slowly takes his lover’s cock into his mouth.

Crowley’s hands hover around his head until, apparently, he decides to slam them into the shower walls instead. Aziraphale almost chuckles. It’s fine, it’s only been a few months; in time he’ll learn that Aziraphale doesn’t mind being tugged around a bit.

He swallows him to the hilt and looks up, and what a feast for the eyes he is. Crowley’s naked body, tense and wet, fat drops of water rolling down his chest, his stomach, his hips. Crowley’s blushing all the way down to his neck, his hair sticking to his face, his lips parted, his eyes two golden slits fixed on Aziraphale.

He must like what he sees, because he curses under his breath and his hips jerk forward and into Aziraphale’s willing mouth. Aziraphale doesn’t mind, he enjoys all of it, even takes pride in being the one to take Crowley apart like that.

He reaches down to stroke himself as he sucks, and soon time loses meaning for the two of them, there’s just the dull pain of the hard floor against his knees, the pleasant ache of his jaw as Crowley thrusts in and out of his lips, the salty taste on his tongue which he can never get enough of.

Crowley comes in his mouth and Aziraphale doesn’t swallow, lets it leak from his lips down onto his chin, onto his thighs, feels the hot burn of it as he closes his hand tight around his own cock and comes in long, shuddering pulses, his moans muffled against Crowley’s skin, delicious and forbidden no more.

Crowley pulls back and collapses onto the floor.

“Fuck… that was incredible.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes, lets the water wash over him. “Quite.”

“Good idea, adding a shower to your bathroom.”

“Ah, thank you.” Aziraphale smiles at him as Crowley takes his face in his hands. “My live-in demon insisted it’d be a nice addition, and I have to agree.”

Crowley kisses him soundly, and Aziraphale thinks that that’s one luxury he’d never much thought about, all the years he’s been pining after Crowley: the possibility to make him happy.

If it’s a shower he wants, a bigger bed, a skylight for his plants – he can have all of it. Because, now, this is their house together, their nest, and Aziraphale doesn’t mind spending the rest of his life making it as perfect as he can.


End file.
